


Freedom is Mine

by Theoroark



Series: Feeling Good [3]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Brainwashing (mentioned), F/F, Fluff and Angst, Gangs (mentioned), Reflection, Sharing a Bed, Spiderbyte trying to do Feelings, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-14
Updated: 2017-11-14
Packaged: 2019-02-02 10:09:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12724572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theoroark/pseuds/Theoroark
Summary: She had grown somewhat fond of Sombra’s postcoital daze, where she seemed to want nothing more than to retain physical contact with Widow.Making fun of her tattoo, however, kind of ruined the mood.





	Freedom is Mine

“‘Evening spider, nightmare,’” Sombra read. “Very clever.”

 

Widow rolled her eyes and tugged her arm off of Sombra’s chest and out of her grasp. She had grown somewhat fond of Sombra’s postcoital daze, where she seemed to want nothing more than to retain physical contact with Widow. Her warmth had been strange at first but now it felt pleasant, and Sombra never seemed to expect Widow to respond to the nonsense she murmured into her skin.

 

Making fun of her tattoo, however, kind of ruined the mood.

 

“It’s a French expression,” Widow said, cradling the ink. “Morning spider, grief; evening spider–”

 

“–hope, but you twisted it and made it all goth,” Sombra finished. “This isn’t the first time I noticed it,” she said when Widow looked surprised.

 

“Hmm.” She tucked her arm back under her a bit petulantly, and Sombra smiled and put her hand on her cheek.

 

“I’m just joking with you, Widow. I think it’s a really nice design.”

 

“Thank you.” Sombra nodded and Widow felt the track of her touch strongly as she moved her hand down her neck. “You used to have tattoos, didn’t you?” she asked.

 

“Yeah, but just the Muertos ones. Not super personal. And they got scrapped during the cyborgization surgery.”

 

She stretched her arm out between them, as though Widow would not believe her without visual confirmation. Widow ran her fingers down Sombra’s forearm. The skin was clean and bare, gave no hint of the alloy of organic and cybnetic it had been cobbled out of. At least until she got to her wrists, where the purple and pink cables erupted from her skin and crawled to her fingertips. She traced their ridges but Sombra twisted her hand away, interlaced their fingers instead.

 

“They were cool,” Sombra said absently. “Glow in the dark. Not great for stealth, but very spooky.”

 

“You can go invisible now,” Widow pointed out. “You could make it work, and they have ink that works on cybernetic skin. Would you want to get them done again?”

 

“I don’t think so.”

 

“Why not?”

 

Sombra sighed and took her hand away and Widow was reminded of how she had pulled her tattooed arm back after Sombra had been too Sombra about it. She wondered what she had said wrong.

 

“When did you get yours?” Sombra asked.

 

“Ah. A few years ago.” The first time they had let her out unescorted, the first time she was in a city without a person to kill. It was one of the first feelings she remembered having, the shock of her freedom. The fear had hit first and she had almost run back to base, but there had been lights everywhere and voices all around her and she could smell something not wholly agreeable but instantly identifiable as the product of thousands and thousands of humans living together. The curiosity had been overwhelming and she had wandered the streets for hours, trying to move her senses away from stray movements and unarmored skin and towards anything and everything else.

 

They had been alarmed when she got back to base, but she had shrugged and told them she had simply wanted to commemorate her new skills. It had been true. She had walked into the tattoo parlor for the sole reason that here, here she could change her body according to her own will, here was a place that could make her flesh hers again. When the Omnic artist asked her what she wanted tattooed, she had tried to think of something that was hers, and was unable to think of anything other than heat signatures and crosshairs.

 

After some discussion, they had decided the tattoos were benign. They were not wrong. No feeling that sprouted in her gut had ever challenged her trigger finger.

 

“I got mine when I was ten,” Sombra said, and that jolted Widow from her thoughts.

 

“What?”

 

“Yeah, I mean, I had been working for Los Muertos before, obviously,” she said, as though the statement had been extraordinary in its lateness. “But it was kind of as a contractor sort of thing. And they were worried about some other group grabbing me, or me getting a scholarship or something, so they told me I had to join up, for real, or they would cut me loose.” She laughed a little. “And, you know, in Dorado you really didn’t want Los Muertos not liking you, and there wasn’t time to find someone else–”

 

“And you were a child,” Widow supplied, and Sombra laughed again.

 

“Yeah, sure. Anyway, after the security breach, I knew I wouldn’t be working with Los Muertos as close as I used to, but it didn’t really sink in that I was free until I looked down and the tattoos were gone. And then it hit me that I could go anywhere now, work for whoever I wanted. I could finally work for myself.”

 

Widow felt a strange sadness at that and she pushed it away, because she could do that with sadnesses and also Sombra had a small, pretty smile on her face. “I guess no more bones, then,” she said lightly.

 

“Yeah. But hey. I could get something else done.” She rolled back over to face Widow, and her smile was bigger and sillier now. “Got any suggestions?”

 

“Hmm. I suppose the sugar skull is a touch too obvious.”

 

“Yeah, a bit. Maybe I should crib you, go the text route.” Widow thought a moment, then broke into a huge smile herself. Sombra looked at her suspiciously.

 

“What?”

 

“Well, if you’d like a word that captures your essence, that speaks to your soul–”

 

“I hate you already.”

 

Widow tapped Sombra’s nose. “Boop!”

 

Sombra groaned and rolled away from her and Widow rolled after her, giggling, wrapping her tattooed arm around her waist.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm @tacticalgrandma on tumblr if you want to talk there!
> 
> Thanks for reading, and any comments/kudos would mean the world to me <3


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